


a gift; win-win

by deadlybride



Series: zmediaoutlet [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dildos, Established Relationship, M/M, Sex Toys, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 10:58:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8575687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlybride/pseuds/deadlybride
Summary: Sam wants to watch; Dean obliges.





	

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on my tumblr, zmediaoutlet.tumblr.com, on September 4, 2016

The chair’s perfect: heavy wood, sturdy build. The backrest’s just the right width to straddle comfortably, the top rail of it sturdy enough for Dean to cling to as he fucks himself down onto the dildo suction-cupped to the flat maple seat.

Sam’s mouth has gone dry. He takes a long gulp off his beer, but he doesn’t look away. Can’t. This is so much better than he’d imagined.

They set up right in the middle of the library, not four feet away from where Sam’s sprawled fully-clothed in the armchair—the amber light from the lamps catches in the sweat gleaming on the back of Dean’s neck, on the pretty bare curve of his back, on the spread tilt of his hips as he lifts up, and up, until the dark head of the dildo’s nearly out of his body before he shoves right back down again. He lets out a groan that sounds like it punched right out of his gut and Sam drops a hand to his dick where it’s bulging out of his open fly, but he doesn’t want to bring himself off. Not yet.

It was a joke, at first. _(Go fuck yourself, Sam had said, laughing, and Dean had grinned right back, said, why would I when I’ve got you to do it for me, but then it niggled at the back of Sam’s head, and then it wasn’t that weird to look online, and then it was a quick trip to the post office, and then—)_ Sam’s not laughing anymore. They aren’t talking, and there’s no music playing. There’s just the slick sound of flesh and lube and silicone, the wet noise of all that toy disappearing up into Dean’s body with a _schlick_. There’s the slap of Dean’s ass on the wood when he comes all the way down, the impact making it jiggle, deliciously; there’s the heavy rasp of Dean’s breath in the air, and Sam bites his lips between his teeth so he doesn’t make a noise, because he needs to hear that moment when panting starts to gain the soft, desperate edge of a moan. It’s the best part of his day.

Dean sits down hard, tips forward a little so Sam can see the big black base of the thing pressing open his lube-slick, flushed ass. _(Jeez, Sammy, Dean had said—Overcompensating, much?—but really it’s not all that much bigger than Sam is, because he wanted to see what it’d be like—wanted to see the way Dean’s ass would open up for it, to watch from a safe distance while the big black shape muscled its way inside, to see the look on Dean’s face when he finally got it all the way in—to see how it felt for Dean, to have all that dick inside him, without being distracted by his own greedy, selfish flesh.)_ Dean grinds down against it for a second, breath hitching, drops his chin down against his chest. Sam’s dick flexes in his shorts and he swallows a groan, fumbles his beer down onto the side table, because—oh, God, _Dean—_ he knows exactly what that feels like: the hot close vice of Dean’s body clamping around him, Dean closing his eyes and his expression going tight and inward as he finds that place, grinds against it, no thought for anything but his own pleasure, until Sam can’t take it anymore and says—

“Come on, Dean,” and his voice is a wreck, hoarse even to his own ears, but he can _see_ the muscles in Dean’s back ripple, the shudder that goes through him, and he lifts right back up like Sam gave him a direct order, he lifts up and fucks himself right back down, and oh, yeah, there it is—he’s got a rhythm, finally, he’s fucking himself on the dildo like his life depends on it, balanced on the balls of his feet, the heavy muscles in his thighs standing out in sharp relief.

Sam stands up, his own thighs quivering for a second, but he has to—he has to look closer, and now he can see the white-knuckled grip on the chair rail, the beads of sweat rolling down out of the darkened edge of Dean’s hair, and—and _there_ , yes, there’s the first bleeding edge of a moan, and Sam shoves his hand into his boxer briefs, grips himself tight so he doesn’t blow right there. Dean tips his head back and Sam sees his face flushed dark, his mouth bitten-red and wet and open. He’s bouncing harder on the plastic dick, the strokes lifting him only halfway off before he shoves himself down again, the moaning nearly constant now, and Sam’s leaking freely into his shorts, wet all over his hand, but he’s got just enough composure left to lean in close and say, “Finish up, I'm gonna fuck you next,” and Dean’s eyes fly open to meet Sam’s and he drops a hand to his dick and jerks himself, once, twice, and then he’s—yes, he’s coming, over his hand and belly and through the slats of the chair back, spattering the dark wood floor.

Sam shoves his jeans and briefs down to his thighs, fists the wet head of his dick once, lifts Dean carefully up and off _(the black length gleaming with lube, easing out of his body inch by inch until it flops uselessly against the wet trembling inside of his thigh)_ , hauls him up to standing to get his hips into place and makes sure Dean’s braced and presses a kiss, slow, to the sweat-damp shiver of the back of his neck, and then finally, finally, fucks into him with his own, real, aching dick. Dean groans, tired but eager, and presses his hips back.

**Author's Note:**

> [posted here on my tumblr if you'd like to reblog](http://zmediaoutlet.tumblr.com/post/149921882194/a-gift-win-win)


End file.
